


Lost and Translated

by MaeveElemora



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, Post-Open Season, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Unhealthy Relationships, be warned, because he's a raider and she's former spec ops so really how healthy could these two be, the closest a fluff writer like me gets to it anyways, will I ever write a fic without a happy ending? unlikely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 22:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveElemora/pseuds/MaeveElemora
Summary: Gage has never been one for religious bullshit or any of that romantic crap, butfuckhim, her mouth tastes like salvation coated in a vodka burn.He's spent thirty-two days and thirty-three nights chasing after her. He's been pissed off and mourning, wound tight enough to snap. Now that he's got her in his grasp, he's gonna take out every ounce of frustration he's been carrying. She's right there along with him, yanking at his clothes to get him closer. The way she fits against him is so fucking natural, and reaching for her leg to pull it up to his hip is so automatic that it's almost subconscious.This woman was made for him and he was brought to his fuckin' knees for her.--This fic went from sad, to angst, to aggressive smutveryquickly. A product of insomnia and a determination to get this out of my drafts once and for all.





	Lost and Translated

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to be writing Ori/Hancock fluff. I somehow ended up filling out an entire unhealthy Gage smut draft. It is 11am. I have not slept. Please help.
> 
> Some background to Galya (pronounced Gall-ya), the SS of this fic:  
-She's former military spec ops  
-Her father was an Admiral, her mother was a Russian immigrant  
-Nate was a lawyer who used to do pro bono for anti-war protestors, which is how they met. They weren't "in love", but Nate was terrified of the bombs and Gal wanted to protect him, so she got them a spot in 111.  
-Shaun was... the product of two healthy adults sharing a bed for appearance sake.  
-Galya's character was born from the inspiration of my greatest vice: shitty romance novels. So obviously her narrative is overly dramatic and borderline cheesy.
> 
> I tried to keep Gage's narrative as close to "controlled chaos" as possible. Fingers crossed it actually reads that way.
> 
> *Will Smith at the SAG awards pose* Enjoy.

_Critical failure in Cryogenic Array._

Eighteen months. Five hundred and forty-nine days. Yet still, every time Galya wakes, it is to the echo of that fucking alarm pushing itself to the forefront of her mind. A year and a half later, she still feels the burn of the ice against her skin whenever she takes her first conscious breaths of the day.

The only thing--the only _person_\--in this world that has begun to thaw her is the last one she has any business falling for. In the weeks they've spent together, his touch, his words, his very presence at her side, it has all wrapped around her like her own personal heating pad. Without any intention to, Porter Gage has brought her back to life. And now she stands at the entrance of the castle he granted her, readying herself to destroy his kingdom. The knowledge of what it will do to him, to _them_, makes her feel more frigid than that godforsaken deep freezer ever could.

She can see him in her peripheral, his chest rising and falling in the bed she won through trial by blood. She cannot bring herself to actually look at him. It would mean risking her nerve. The plan is already in motion, backing out now gets her people killed. That is not an option. This act of betrayal will not be the worst thing she'll ever do. Ridding the Commonwealth of the last of her line will forever claim that dishonor. But this, becoming a Judas to the only person who has ever held her heart, is the only thing that could ever come close.

_All Vault residents must vacate immediately._

A single sniper's laser blinks twice in the distance. Deacons' signal. The slaves have been uncollared and are being moved to the monorail. It is time for Galya to fulfill her end of the mission. Her stealth suit is already zipped, its adjoining hood laid over the still-sheathed combat knife she's going to use to slit the throats of each gang leader. Her emergency pistol is tucked safely in her boot. There is nothing else in the littered room she'll be taking with her.

Porter is going to hate her. He will hate her more than anyone else ever has. He will hunt her for the rest of their days, and once her last mission is completed, there will be no reason to keep running from his vengeance. He is going to kill her. She is going to let him.

When she first arrived at Nuka World, the plan had been to let Porter fall into the same firing lane trap as the others. But so much has changed. He has become too much to her to let it happen. It goes against all her training to leave him the written warning. But none of that training matters in the face of how she feels.

"Я тебя люблю," she whispers as she places it over his hand.

It is the middle of summer, and Galya is enveloped in unventilated, elastane-based fabric, but she feels as if she's on the verge of frostbite as she makes her way to the Fizztop elevator.

_Enjoy your return to the surface._

\--

It takes him four and a half fuckin' weeks to track her down. Thirty-two fuckin' days.

There's no way she doesn't know he's closing in on her. He ain't exactly inconspicuous looking, and, given the brutally efficient chain of command she's got her militia running off of, she was probably tipped off about him after that first settlement he went askin' in. But there's no armed force to block his path as he walks into Goodneighbor. Hell, there's no sign of _any_ Minutemen in the town, not even in the Third Rail as he makes his way down the stairs.

She's there, though. Covered in that deep blue from the collar down, her spine's straight and her posture's stiff as she brings a glass up to her lips. He can't see her face, and the dye is completely faded from her hair, but it's her alright. Gage could be stone-blind and still be able to feel her in a room.

The mayor's already at her side, but the ghoul's got the decency to wait until Gage gets within range of her before he pulls up his double-barrel from his hip.

"I see you make one twitch towards your piece," Hancock threatens, "and I'm gonna make you the latest exception to my neutral territory rule."

"Hancock--" she starts.

"My town, my rules, Gal." The other patrons are taking notice now, some of them following their mayor's lead and unholstering.

Gage could not fuckin' care less.

"Look at me," Gage demands of her. She takes a deep breath like she's readying herself for a date with a noose, but complies. Her bone structure confirms his suspicion that she'd gone to a surgeon for this; the face of the Commonwealth's savior woulda been too recognizable. Her eyes are that same skewed oval, but the rest of it, the cheekbones, the nose, the chin, it's all new.

_Not new_, he thinks to himself. _Just the face she hid from you._

"We need to talk," Gage continues, his tone clipped.

"Not a damn chance--" Hancock all but gowls, but her hand on the mayor's arm stops the threat before it's finished.

She motions to the VIP room with her chin. "So let's talk."

"Galya--"

"I have no intention of dying tonight, дорогой," she assures Hancock. She sets her tumbler down on the bar and moves to make her way through the crowded station to the backroom.

It's almost admirable, the way she turns her back to the bloodthirsty raider that just dragged ass through half the 'wealth to breathe down her neck. Back when they first met, he used to think her stunts like this were fueled by reckless arrogance, but he knows better now, after all these months. She doesn't move, speak, or piss without purpose. Everything and everyone around her is evaluated for risk and weakness.

The first time he'd realized it, they'd been in a meeting with Mags. She'd told the head Operator, in the most dismissive tone Gage had ever heard in his life, to fall in line or get bent. Mags had fumed all the way out of Fizztop, but goddamn if the prissy bitch hadn't spent the next few weeks trying her damndest to impress the new Overboss.

It had been so damn invigorating, finally having someone that knew how to overtake the board. Someone who wasn't going to blow it all on a bender or a powertrip. The line between admiration and lust had blurred after that revelation, and the day had ended with Gage laid out on her desk, the queen of Nuka World riding his cock like it was her newest throne.

Gage grinds his teeth at the memory. Now's not the fuckin' time to be mentally gearing for a fuckathon.

The door to the VIP section is a wimp little thing, meant more for blocking sight than sound, but that doesn't bother Gage none. He'd been expecting to have to do this in front of an audience. The fact that she's left the peanut gallery out of eyeshot just gives him more room to breathe.

"I meant what I said out there," she begins. "I have no intention of dying tonight. You can have your revenge, but there is one last mission I ne--"

"Galya."

It's the first time he's ever gotten to say her name, her _real_ fuckin' name, and sweet fuckin' christ it feels right on her.

She's dead silent, and Gage can tell she's taking it in too. It makes sense now, why she wouldn't let him call her Monica in bed. Slut, whore, and _mine_ probably feel a whole lot better on the ears than someone else's name.

"Tell me what you said." Son of a cunt, his voice is gettin' hoarse on him. He's way too old for this sap shit.

Galya's eyes move to the floor in the only sign of weakness he's ever seen from her. "I said many things--"

"Don't fuck around with me." Gage gets right up into her space and yanks her chin up to make her face him. "We both know exactly what I'm talkin' about."

"You were awake," she whispers. It's not a question. A realization maybe.

"Oh yeah. I was awake. Watched you squeeze your tight ass into that little rubber getup. Watched you walk out on me to go lynch what we built together." He shoves her against the wall behind her hard enough to make her flinch. "Only thing I don't know is what you said to me."

"Я тебя люблю," she repeats, brave enough, or maybe secure enough in herself, to keep eye contact with him when a tear falls free.

"And what does that mean, Galya."

"It means I love you."

He pushes himself against the length of her and moves his hand down from her chin to grip the back of her neck. "That's what the fuck I thought."

Gage has never been one for religious bullshit or any of that romantic crap, but _fuck_ him, her mouth tastes like salvation coated in a vodka burn.

He's spent thirty-two days and thirty-three nights chasing after her. He's been pissed off and mourning, wound tight enough to snap. Now that he's got her in his grasp, he's gonna take out every ounce of frustration he's been carrying. She's right there along with him, yanking at his clothes to get him closer. The way she fits against him is so fucking natural, and reaching for her leg to pull it up to his hip is so automatic that it's almost subconscious.

This woman was made for him and he was brought to his fuckin' knees for her.

"I'm gonna fuck you against this wall, _Galya_." Damn, it'll be a while before he gets tired of saying her name now that he actually knows it. Judging by the way she's arching against him, she's got no complaints.

"Заебись," she groans as Gage moves his mouth down to the spot at the hinge of her jaw that always knocks her off balance. Her nails have gotten longer in the month they've been apart, he notices as she's digging into his scalp. His cock gives a twitch at the idea of what they'll feel like dragging against his sack and it kicks his ass into gear.

"Your stupid uniform's got too many fuckin' buttons," Gage grouses as he pushes her longcoat off her shoulders. It makes a muffled, heavy thunk as it hits the stone tile, hinting that she'd been armed to the teeth as usual.

"So get rid of them," she all but demands as she works open his belt, her voice slipping into that not-quite-sultry tone of hers.

That's his fuckin' girl.

The breathless noise Galya makes as he rips her button-up open like one of those prewar comics is great, really. But it's got nothing on the noise she makes when he wraps his lips around her nipple and _pulls_.

Someone comes into the room right about the time he gets the laces of her trousers loose enough to shove his hand down the front of them. It's probably Hancock, given the reassuring dismissal in her responding tone, but Gage is past giving enough of a shit to pay attention to anything that isn't her nipple between his teeth or her wet cunt around his fingers. They can go ahead and shoot him for all he cares. Short of that, nothing's gonna stop him from gettin' balls deep in his woman.

Galya tugs on his hair hard enough to make him pull back and turns herself out of his grasp when he does. The snide protest he'd been about to make dies in his throat as she braces her hands against the wall and arches her ass out for him. Gage's hands scramble to the front of his pants, not wanting to waste any more time--

Huh. Little vixen already got his cock out for him, and he'd missed the whole thing.

Gage reaches out to wrap her hair around his fist and takes his cock into his other. "You're gonna keep your hands on the wall, Galya." He gives her hair a rough pull. "You take 'em off and I'm gonna push you onto the floor and make you take my dick down your throat, you got that?"

"Yes," she hisses, bucking against the head of his cock.

"Yes what, Galya?"

Her head whips around at that, nailing him with a look of shock like she can't believe what he's asking for. It probably _is_ a little fucked, demanding she call him by the title she betrayed. But he's a fucked up guy, and she's his fucked up woman. She can change a lot of things about herself, but she can't fake _that_.

Something in his expression must have tipped her off to the intensity he's planning because she turns her face back to the wall and adjusts her stance to brace herself better before giving in to his request.

"Yes, _boss_."

Gage takes a beat to revel in the words and commit the image of General Galya Petrovna bent over and dripping for him to memory. Then he's thrusting into her full force, bottoming out in the blink of an eye. Galya cries out, loud and high-pitched, and it strokes at the sadist in him. It's not usually prevalent in these moments, violence and fuckin' have their own individual places, but a good portion of him is still _damn pissed_.

A brutal fuck feels like as good a place as any to start working through their shit, especially when she's so visibly on board.

There's no finesse to his movements. He doesn't make a grab for her tits, she's not pushing herself back so he can get at her throat. This isn't about a reunion or a declaration. This is a _claiming_. He's gonna make sure she can't sit for days. She's gonna walk out of this fuckin' bar with the cum he's had built up for a month runnin' down her thighs.

After this, Galya fuckin' Petrovna is going to _underfuckingstand_ that she can walk out on him all she wants, but she will _always_ be _his_.

"When you go somewhere," he pants between thrusts, "_I come with you_. Understand?"

"I--_oh_, настолько хорошо--I thought--Ah!" She cuts off with a yell as Gage gives a heavy, open-palmed slap to her ass. If she wants to speak, she's gonna damn well work for it. "I thought--you... were going to _kill me_," she manages to get out.

"I should, if only for making me chase after you like some--fuckin'--love-struck--_teenager_."

God, he needed this. All those nights of anger, all those days of doubt and resentment. He'd missed her. He'd _needed_ her. Fuck Nuka World. Fuck the Minutemen, too, for that matter. The only thing that matters anymore is her. If he has to give up the other shit to have her, fine. Knowing what life with her is like means he's not down to live it without her. It's the whole fuckin' reason he came here.

"You're mine, Gal. And-goddamn you--I'm yours. Ain't _shit_ you can do about it now."

Gage doesn't give her a chance to say anything else. He's tempted to keep away from her clit as further punishment. It's been a long, frustrating month, so chances are he could get himself off and leave her as wound-up as he's been. But his need to feel her cum on his cock outweighs his need for pretty revenge.

Galya's breath catches in surprise when his fingers slide between her lower lips. He can feel the tops of his fingers on the underside of his still-thrusting cock from this angle, the sensation of his rough nails sending a shock of pleasure up his spine. "Be my good little bitch and make yourself cum, Galya."

She all but sobs in relief, and the sound is music to his ears, knowing she was as desperate for him as he was for her all this time. Her hips start up a desperate, aggressive rocking against his fingers. In almost no time at all, her cunt clenches up around his cock. "О, черт. Porter!"

"_Fuck_ yeah, there ya go," he grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts and working her clit on his own when her hips lose their rhythm. She moves to pull his hand away as the over sensitivity kicks in, but he's having fucking none of that. "Ah, ah. Put your fuckin' hand back up on that wall. _Now_."

Galya really does sob this time. "Porter, Любимая моя, _please_."

"Nope, you're gonna give me one fuckin' more, Gal." The front of Gage's hips feel like a used punching bag, so he can only imagine what she's feeling. Twenty-some-odd minutes of standing on the balls of her feet, neck stretched back at a painful angle, scalp stinging from his grip on her hair, ass bruised and raw. Top it all off with his calloused fingers dragging another orgasm out of her too-sensitive clit.

It takes a good few minutes of work to get her back up to the edge. He's half-convinced she's going to tap out any second based on the noises she's making, but finally, she pushes herself back so the top of her head's against his chest, her eyes locking with his.

"Please--_f-uck_\--Любимая моя, _fill me_."

Gage drops his hand from her hair to latch on to her tits for leverage, hips stilling and fingers continuing to work her clit as he cums, balls deep inside her. He lowers his head and bites down hard on her shoulder to muffle his shout. The pain must be enough for her because the next second she's following him over that cliff.

When the black dots finally leave his vision, Gage eases himself out of her with a groan. Galya whimpers, still clinging to the arm he's got wrapped around her for dear life. "I gotcha, don't worry," he assures. He carefully pulls her up into his arms and shuffles his way over to couch against the far wall so he can park his ass on the torn-up red leather. She hisses in pain when he sets her down on his lap and shifts herself sideways until she's resting her weight on her hip instead.

_Right_, Gage thinks, more than a little smug. _Sore ass. Mission accomplished._

"So," she says after they've had some time to catch their breath. "That was... not what I was expecting."

"I wasn't expectin' the only person I've ever trusted to leave me high and dry, so I guess we're both havin' a bit of an odd month." Gage doesn't laugh, but there is a smile on the edge of his lips, and there's no malice in his voice.

She huffs out a laugh, tucking herself further into his side. "You aren't here for revenge, then?"

"No, I'm here to get my woman back."

"Porter, I'm the General of the Minutemen--" she tries, but he cuts her off.

"I ain't gonna hurt or enslave your piss-ass little subjects, relax."

"It's about more than refraining from violence. There are consequences to getting involved in this shitstorm."

"Come on now." Gage runs his hand up her leg, gently stroking the skin of her hip that's no doubt going to be bruised in the morning. "A smart woman like you should have this shit figured out by now. A raider's only goal in life is to get what they want. You're what I want, so I'm gonna have you. Don't give a fuck what the consequences of that are."

When all she gives him in response is a skeptical side-eye, he switches tactics. "Look, you wanna play savior, go right ahead. I'm gonna laugh at you and tell you what a waste of fuckin' time it is the whole way, and I'm _definitely_ gonna take every opportunity to remind you how free you felt when it was just us out shootin' shit, but I'm not gonna leave."

She's silent for a few moments, tracing her fingers over the lines of his face the way she used to when they were alone. "This is not about saving them."

Gage snorts. "Then what's it about, Gal?"

"My mother," she says with a heavy sigh like she's gearing up to defend herself. "She raised me on the principle of karma. If you put something bad into this world, you have to be the one to take it out." Her voice gets quiet, somber. "I put something into this world that became bad. It was not my doing, but it _is_ my responsibility."

He contemplates her words for a minute. "Yeah... yeah, I can kinda get that. It's a stupid weight to carry, but I get it."

Galya leans in to kiss him. It's nothing like their kiss from earlier. There's no biting or moaning, just slight movements and light pressure. It feels good, exactly like it used to in those stolen moments in Fizztop. Feels right.

She pulls back just enough to give him a weak smile. "We should leave once it's done. Distract ourselves with some new adventure together. Forget all about the things we left behind."

"You sure about that? Sure you're gonna be able to give up this hero life of yours?" He's partly teasing, partly serious.

"If you had let me finish talking earlier," she replies with that fucking trademark smirk of hers, "you would know that I have had every intention of laying my life in your hands from the moment I left Nuka World." She pauses long enough to cradle his face in her hands. "I have walked as an empty shell since I left the vault, searching for purpose or an end. Whatever came first. _You_ are the only thing that has brought me back."

Gage swallows hard, softly brushing his hand through her hair and bringing their foreheads together. He's got no response for her. He doesn't know... He's not equipped for this shit. He knows how he feels, and he knows--or at least hopes--she knows, too. Maybe someday he'll figure out how to talk about this shit, but today ain't that day.

"Well." _Shiiit_. There goes his fuckin' voice again. "I ain't lookin' to be that end, Ms. Petrovna. I'm here for the long haul, like it or not."

  
\--

  
Translations:

Я тебя люблю: "I love you"  
дорогой: a term of endearment for friends/family/loved ones "My dear"  
Заебись: along the same lines of "Fuckin' A" or "Oh fuck"  
настолько хорошо: "So good" don't... quote me on that tho.  
Любимая моя: loosely is "my only/my darling" Russians don't really use the whole 'my love' thing so Любимая моя is, in a sense, stronger and more meaningful than that.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my name is Mae, and I have a _terrible_ addiction to shitty romance novels. Thank you for your time.
> 
> Side note: codependency is super unhealthy. It's cute and harmless to read and write about, sure, but don't let yourself get caught up in it. Putting the weight of your existence on someone else's shoulders is a shitty thing to do to a person, not to mention really dangerous to do to yourself.
> 
> Figured I'd put that out there given the love themes I sometimes use.
> 
> As always, your feedback fuels me! Comments, suggestions, and requests are always welcome <3


End file.
